Mr. Sieppe was a little man of a military aspect, full of importance,
taking himself very seriously. He was a member of a rifle team. Over his
shoulder was slung a Springfield rifle, while his breast was decorated
by five bronze medals.

Trina was delighted. McTeague was dumfounded. She appeared positively
glad to see him.

"How do you do, Doctor McTeague," she said, smiling at him and shaking
his hand. "It's nice to see you again. Look, see how fine my filling
is." She lifted a corner of her lip and showed him the clumsy gold
bridge.

Meanwhile, Mr. Sieppe toiled and perspired. Upon him devolved the
responsibility of the excursion. He seemed to consider it a matter of
vast importance, a veritable expedition.

"Owgooste!" he shouted to the little boy with the black greyhound, "you
will der hound und basket number three carry. Der tervins," he added,
calling to the two smallest boys, who were dressed exactly alike, "will
releef one unudder mit der camp-stuhl und basket number four. Dat
is comprehend, hay? When we make der start, you childern will in der
advance march. Dat is your orders. But we do not start," he exclaimed,
excitedly; "we remain. Ach Gott, Selina, who does not arrive."

Selina, it appeared, was a niece of Mrs. Sieppe's. They were on the
point of starting without her, when she suddenly arrived, very much out
of breath. She was a slender, unhealthy looking girl, who overworked
herself giving lessons in hand-painting at twenty-five cents an hour.
McTeague was presented. They all began to talk at once, filling the